


the bravest thing i ever did was survive (for you)

by rredhoods



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Logan (Movie), Logan - Fandom, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Gen, I MEAN....HOW COULD I NOT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10439067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rredhoods/pseuds/rredhoods
Summary: He would keep her safe; that would be his redemption. Not to help nurture the bright flame of the future, but to stand vigil. To safeguard it, until his next dying days.





	

The world was spinning, an odd kaleidoscope of colours that made his headache even more painful. No longer could he smell the lush forestry surrounding the borders of Canada, but instead the telltale stench of a...hospital room?

He shifted, a groan escaping his lips that sounded like nothing more than a raspy breath and tasted metallic, tasted of dried blood and death. He remembered claws, blood, and the sound of crying children. Bullets, screams, and explosions.

Laura.

Using what felt like all his strength, Logan forced his eyes open, and winced as he waited for the harsh burn of the lights to reside. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear voices, but didn't have the energy to try and pull them apart. Instead, he took them in as a mangled mess of syllables and accents, hurried and messy in their execution. God, where the fuck _was_ he- 

"Daddy!" 

Small hands grabbed onto his own, frantic and unyielding, and he finally zeroed in on Laura's blurry form, standing right next to the bed as she clung to him. With her warm touch came a flood of memories; Charles, Eden, their angry spat, and the assholes in the forest. Feeling the sweet touch of death, holding Laura for what he thought would be the last time. Her tears, his own regrets, and the blissful relief of rest underneath layers and layers of burning guilt.

He remembered lying in the blood-soaked greenery, thinking about how selfish it was of him to be glad of dying. To leave Laura to her own devices, despite her being his blood, his daughter. He had not regretted his sacrifice, nor the pain that was ravaging his body, if it meant she would be safe, alive. And she was. She was, she had been...she had been sobbing, tears sliding down her cheeks as she put pressure on his wounds in a vain effort to keep him with her. To keep him alive, to will him to live. 

And here they were.

"C'mere," he manages to spit out gruffly, moving his aching body over so there was room on the cot for her small form. Without hesitation, she climbed up onto the bed and settled against his side, burying her face into his neck, fresh tears dampening his skin. He lets her rest against him without asking questions, content to hold her against him while staring up at the ceiling, mulling over his own thoughts.

For so long, he had thought there was no coming back from craving death. Not the thrill, or the adrenaline, but the simple desire of wanting to die. Not heroically, but with a bullet through the head. He was so far gone in his own misery that the bright light that Laura was seemingly wasn't even to reel him back to shore.

But here they were.

Laura tightened her grip on the flimsy material of the hospital gown, bending her body to push her knees closer to her chest to curl up further in his grasp. He relented, pulling her as close as his barely healed wounds would allow him, and she murmured her thanks into his chest.

Warmth bubbled through him, and for the first time in a long, James Howlett smiled. Tiredly, but it was still a smile. One that faded as the gravity of the situation set in.

He didn’t have a damn clue where they were.

Laura seemed quite comfortable, and her instincts were second to none. Last he’d seen, the children were prepared to run the last stretch across the border, but…he had passed out before anything else had happened.

Were they safe?

“Rictor brought us here,” Laura spoke up, almost as if he had voiced his concerns out loud. He glanced down to find her watching him, eyes blinking as she spat a few words in Spanish before shaking her head in exasperation. “He said…safe. Asylum, for us.”

He breathed in, forcing air through his lungs and fighting the sudden wave of nausea that followed the pain. His wounds were slowly healing, but the process in itself was taking too long for him to be comfortable yet. “In Canada? That’s what I thought when I heard him on the—” 

“No. Not Canada. Somewhere else, a…a place for people like us. Mutants.”

Logan stilled, forgetting how to breathe as he stared at the girl in his arms. Her words brought forth a long-forgotten memory, a promise made by a man he once knew. Someone who had gone missing shortly thereafter, and soon pronounced dead by the U.S. Government. But…it couldn’t be…

“Laura,” he murmured, voice quiet so he wouldn’t alarm her in any way. Hope wasn't the euphoria threatening to break free in his chest, or the sudden erratic pace of his heartbeat. Hope was a small, dark-haired child with a shy smile and the strength of a wolf, and she sat in his lap. He didn't need any more than that, truly. “Was…is there anyone else here? Other than us and your friends?”

She frowned, keenly aware of his distress, and pulled away to face him fully. He was sure that his hysteria was starting to break free, drawn out clearly on his facial features, but the sheer prospect of having to face anyone in the aftermath of Charles’ death…

“The Canadian Government,” she began, brows furrowed, trying to string together the words in the correct order. “They meet us at the border, brought us here to safety. I had to scream for them to let me stay with you. Enough men came to escort us to this hospital. And sent them to bring you here instead.”

“Them? Who is _them_?” He growled out, hackles raised at the overcoming prospect of a threat. He tried to tell himself that Laura knew better than to trust just anyone, but the lone wolf in him needed to know for himself. For his own sake and the sake of the bunch of kids that had no choice but to trust the words of powerful men.

“The other mutants. They came to escort us to our new home, Rictor said. They…they said they knew you.”

 _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! That could either be really bad, or fucking _bad_. There weren't very many people on this planet that liked, or even tolerated him, human or mutant. And many of the ones who tolerated him? Were now dead; had been dead for a long, long time. 

Before he could instruct Laura to round up the rest of the kids so they could get the fuck out of there, the door swung open on its own accord.

And in walked Magneto.

Logan felt his jaw drop instinctively, eyes solely on the old man as he moved towards the cot with a sense of purpose and his infamous helmet on. Behind him walked came Mystique and Sabretooth, both with opposing expressions on their face. The latter looked to be in awe of their old acquaintance, while Victor was staring at him with horror; no doubt he looked like a fucking mess after all that had happened in the forest. 

“Logan,” Magneto murmured, a faint smile gracing his lips in an uncharacteristically soft way. 

“Erik,” Logan found himself saying, not able to keep the surprise out of his voice. To see three of his oldest acquaintances in the same room after so long…maybe he really _was_ dead. Maybe this odd continuation of his life was his punishment for all the sins he had committed, all the lives he had taken. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Charming as ever, my old friend,” the man sounded dry, even as he settled into the free chair next to the bed and took off his helmet. Logan found himself thinking that Erik looked the same as he did the last time he had seen him; tired, albeit authoritative. Laura sat up, watching the newcomers with her lip pulled back in a snarl. A jolt of pride shot through Logan at the sight, but he was careful not to let it show.

“Charles?” Mystique asked, voice breathless. Logan here, alone, could mean only a few things, none of them positive. Erik glanced over his shoulder at his companion, before turning his attention back to Logan, equally expectant. “Logan, where is my brother?”

He closed his eyes. Next to him, he could feel Laura quivering, soft cries falling from her lips as she wept for the grandfather she knew. He reached out to wrap his hand around her nape and pulled her against his chest, offering comfort in the only way he knew how. 

It was enough for the others to understand what happened.

He heard a heavy thud, followed by a drawn-out cry of anguish from a sister who had been lost to a brother now gone. A cry for the regrets and missed opportunities, the mistakes and the walkouts. Erik lowered his head, every inch of metal in the room shaking violently as the man himself drew in a rattling breath. Even with his grievous injuries, Logan could see the tears falling from the mutant’s eyes. They all knew loss, lived and breathed it, but to lose Charles was to lose the heart and soul of what had been their own ragtag group of heroes. 

 _I tried_ , he wanted to say, so, so desperately. _I worked so hard, for so long, and I…_

He doesn’t; instead, Magneto raises his head and stared Logan in the eyes, fists trembling. The room stopped shaking. “Thank you. For taking care of him, even when none of us had to courage to. I abandoned him, and _you_ , and for that I can never forgive myself.” 

Well. That wasn’t exactly what Logan had been expecting. Instead of replying, he turned his head and stared off into the distance, weak sunlight warming his face. So much suffering, and death, and pain…only to learn their friends were alive. Tucked away in some secret pocket of the earth, thriving as a community when they had only themselves.

But could he blame them? 

Charles losing control had had the most devastating impact on mutantkind in the history of civilization. So many of their own dead, so many familiar faces…it was near Shakespearean in its tragedy.

The mutant who swore to protect them all ended up being their undoing. 

“He died after remembering what he had done,” he found himself speaking, voice monotonous as he burned in the remembrance of finding Charles, _dying_ , in that quaint farmhouse. For so long, the agony of knowing what Charles had been feeling in those last minutes had haunted him, and he had desperately reigned it in as to not pour it out onto Laura. With Erik...Erik had just as many skeletons in his closet. “He died at the hands of a clone of me, thinking I was angry at him.”

“You did all you could,” Erik chided him, voice dangerously quiet. “You did not deserve such burdens—”

“Charles was _never_ a burden,” Logan cut him off sharply, eyes burning. Words flew through his head, from friend to father to hero. Charles had been many things, but a burden? The old professor deserved more than that, deserved more than that last year of suffering he had lived through. 

A heavy pause. Erik gave him a small nod, eyes drifting over to Laura; Logan had to hold back a growl. Magneto would not hurt the child, would never hurt their own kind willingly. 

“Enough,” the metal user finally spoke, voice filled with gravel. Tiredness. “Enough suffering, Logan. Enough torture. Come with us, we will provide a haven for the children and yourself. Utopia is the last place on Earth humans would ever think of stepping foot on, even if they found it. It is time for you to rest.” 

 _Rest_. That sounded like a splendid idea; but could he? Did he deserve it? After everything he had done, all the blood on his hands, all the suffering he had caused?

Laura tugged on his sleeve, and he glanced down to find her staring up at him with pleading eyes. And in that moment, he realized something. Something crucial for their survival, the climax to his turmoil. What he had been feeling since that fateful day they had left the water tank.

He wouldn’t be going for himself. 

Lifting his eyes back towards Erik, Logan gave him a single nod, eliciting twin smiles from the man and Laura. Laura, who immediately curled back up into his arms, a non-verbal ‘thank you’ for what he had just decided upon.

He would keep her safe; that would be his redemption. Not to help nurture the bright flame of the future, but to stand vigil. To safeguard it, until his next dying days.

Erik touched his free hand, a silent agreement to do the same. 

“Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Logan (2017) dir. James Mangold ruined mY GOTDAMN LIFE.....so have this fix-it!! It's a bit of a mess, mainly because I have a cold and I'm dying, pals.


End file.
